


What Mortals Want

by Lemon Dr Pepper (sh1defier), lemon_dr_pepper



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Family Shenanigans, Gen, Love Confessions, Meeting the Parents, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-09-23 14:28:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20341633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sh1defier/pseuds/Lemon%20Dr%20Pepper, https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemon_dr_pepper/pseuds/lemon_dr_pepper
Summary: In a quest to express the depths of his feelings for Djeeta, Grimnir seeks the advice of the most qualified people he can think of:  three equally-clueless primal gods and a teenage girl.





	1. Power To Humble A God

**Author's Note:**

> As always, my X/Y pairing is romantic and the X&Y pairings are platonic. But GrimDjeeta goes in both so more people will see it tee hee

The sun has long fallen, and the moon since risen, a great glowing white orb in the black night sky. It stands as his main ally in dispelling the darkness which threatens to consume them otherwise, backed only by the stars--and both stars and moon have proven treacherous before. For additional backup--though unlike the lights in the sky they are not glowing, they are more relevant to his immediate interests--four mighty beings stand before him, each exuding their own form of eminence even if not light.

“I’m sure you’re all wondering why I’ve gathered you here today…” he begins.

Shiva, wielder of the apocalyptic flame. He possesses the powers of both creation and destruction, nearly a god among gods, yet derives such holy power from the prayers of man.

Europa, the lady of water. The skydwellers treasure her so dearly that they’ve tried to claim her as one of their own, said to have ascended to her primal state by sheer force of her own excellence.

Alexiel, the Godsworn earthen blade. Her sense of good and evil, right and wrong, mirrors his own in being incomparable, but where he was chosen to run among mortals at their worst she has pledged herself to the protection of them at their most righteous.

Alongside Lyria, the girl in blue, the ultimate bridge between primal beasts and the mortal realm.

They’re here before Grimnir, the Dancing Whirlwind, because they are all super awesome, but also because these qualities make them perfect for assisting him with a task of great import.

“Ah… Yeah! I’m really curious!” the girl in blue prompts him when no one else does (she is so nice!).

“I have summoned you four as my allies, for support that only you could be trusted to give. I find myself ensnared in a great battle--a task of such magnitude lies before me that even I, the Mad Cyclone, hesitate to approach it alone. My winds are all-powerful, and yet helpless as a single breath in this particular task. Where you four will surely triumph, others would tremble before the might of such a mission, one that could threaten to rend both heaven and earth alike!”

“What do you need help with?” Europa asks sweetly.

“Ah, ahem.” Grimnir clears his throat, then rubs the back of his neck. “I want to do something really special for the singularity.”

“Oh!”

“Ah.”

“I see.”

“And you seek our consult in the matter?” Grimnir nods eagerly at Alexiel’s question.

“Yeah, of course I do! You guys know what you’re doing.”

“Do we?” she asks again. The young girl beside her looks similarly confused.

“Shiva and I have each taken mortal lovers in the past,” Europa explains to the both of them. “Though it has been some time for me, I imagine that’s why Grimnir has sought us two specifically.”

“But I want you here too, Alexiel!” Grimnir insists. “You always know how to best help the skydwellers--your council will be vital to my success! And you too, girl in blue! You know the singularity better than anyone. You share your life force, don’t you?” On that note he doubles back a little. “Er, though that doesn’t mean that you’re wrapped up in this, aheh… This is between me and the singularity specifically.”

“Um, yeah!” she replies brightly and awkwardly. “I’ll do whatever I can to help out!”

“I too shall give it my all,” says Alexiel with firmer resolve.

“I must ask what makes you so keen on seeking such assistance, Grimnir. You yourself have taken children of man as consorts before now.” Shiva raises an eyebrow. “Or so it was my understanding.”

“I have, but this is different. Not that I didn’t l-love my past consorts, but I’ve grown up a lot since then and I…” His voice stumbles over one particular word as it escapes him sooner than he intended. “I-I mean, I--ehh--I--Aaaaaah…. I, y-you know!” He’s too surprised at himself to keep his tongue from tying itself into a fancy knot, the kind that sailors use to secure the sails to their ships so that they may catch the wind. Keeping with the metaphor, his face is as red as the sky before the tempest and every bit as hot. He buries it into his palms, whining in embarrassment and excitement in equal amounts--that’s right, he  _ is _ excited! Just nervous too! He’s been agonizing over it for days, but he hasn’t  _ said _ it out loud before now.

Europa claps her hands together. “How lovely. Grimnir is in love.”

Lyria gasps, radiating delight. “Grimnir! Do you really love Djeeta?”

“I… Well, I really like her,” he manages to say, and then startles when Lyria advances menacingly. 

“Do you  _ like _ her, or do you  _ love _ her?” 

“I love her! I do, I love her with my whole heart! My soul cries out for--”

“ _ Ahhhhh! _ ” The rest of his confession is drowned out by the squealing the girl in blue dissolves into while she throws her arms around Grimnir. 

“What a joyous occasion!” cheers Alexiel, clapping him so firmly on the back that she nearly knocks both of them over.

“Yeah…” He finally lowers his hands again. “Thanks. I’m really, really happy. That’s why it’s so important to me to do something to show her how I really feel.”

“Hm.” Shiva thoughtfully touches his chin. “I would have expected you to embrace the opportunity to use your poetry. Such an occasion calls for it.”

“Make no mistake, I’ve come up with a few things.” He’s filled about three notebooks with ideas, actually, and he’s three-quarters of the way through a fourth. “But she hears my epic speeches all the time. Something like this needs something more. Words alone aren’t enough to express my feelings the way I want to.” The other disciples are now staring at him, and not in the way that shows that they’re mesmerized by his turns of phrase. “Um. Did I say something weird?”

His question is met with laughter.

“H-Huh?”

“Strange only for you,” says Shiva with a confusingly knowing smile.

“You really have grown up, haven’t you, Grimnir,” follows Europa, whom Grimnir follows next with a flustered frown.

“A-Are you patronizing me? I’m being serious here!”

“No, it’s a good thing,” she reassures him. “Come then, let’s work together. I’ll make some tea.”

With that, his fears evaporate. He can feel his own eyes sparkling as he beams at his friends in eager anticipation of the machinations-to-be. But first--”Wait one moment!” He waves before Europa can disappear. “We can’t risk discussing this anywhere where word might reach the singularity. We must convene away from the Grandcypher, where our words will blend into the night and go unnoticed. Heh…” He grins to his companions. “It so happens that I scouted just the place on yesterday’s eve… We’ll still get drinks, though!”

“Lead the way and we shall follow,” says Alexiel.

“But one more thing before we go!” Grimnir throws out his arms again before anyone can move, ushering them back to rapt silence. “On that same note, before we go forth I must demand that an oath be made among us. An oath of silence to be unbroken. I’m going to bare my heart to you guys, so you can’t tell a soul about this, okay? No matter what! I won’t risk that somehow the singularity will find out about this--be it by accident or treachery. Not that our friends are treacherous,” he breaks character to add quickly, “but, you know, just to be safe. Nobody can let it slip, not one bit. Promise me this.”

It is not until they’ve sworn to him their silence (he considered asking for proof in blood but the idea of Lyria being hurt was too awful even for something as serious as this), do they set forth. Two towns over they convene in the back of a restaurant as its patronage dies down to the evening embers (most people have left already, but the owner gave them his blessing after nearly crumbling at the sight of four demigods and a small girl). The table at which they sit is lit only by a thin string of lights across the awning overhead. They’ve each a drink (water or tea), including a small dish for Nagaraja. “Express your thoughts first to us, Grimnir,” the serpent’s master begins, “so that we may offer our guidance. You have fallen in love with the singularity. In what manner do you wish to express this, if not in words?”

“That’s what I need help with. I don’t struggle with words, especially when I have time to prepare them, but it’s not just a matter of saying the word ‘love’, you know?” He’s mulled this over for infinite hours and all mulling has led him back to this conclusion. “It’s important for me to find some way to really  _ show _ how I feel. I want to do something with real significance. I don’t just love her, I’m  _ in _ love…” He giggles nervously, covering half his face with his hand. “I can’t believe I keep saying it. I’m in love, I’m in love, I’m in love…”

Lyria’s smile brightens a little more every time the L-word leaves him. “Were you thinking something cute like a special gift? Something just for her?” she asks. He shakes his head.

“No, that’s not good enough either! That’d be a sweet gesture, but not the kind with the  _ oomph _ I’m looking for. I want to take some sort of step forward--” He gestures as such with his hands. “Something that shows her that I’m committed to what we have together. Does that make sense?”

“Oh! Yeah, it does!” says Lyria. “Some kind of big relationship milestone to mark your progress--is that right?”

“Right! But I don’t know enough about skydwellers’ customs to come up with something that would be as meaningful to her as I want it to be.”

Now Lyria looks puzzled. “But, I thought you said you’ve been with mortals before?”

“It is as you say,” replies Shiva. “Though we have connected with many children of man throughout the centuries, only since meeting this crew have we begun to engage in the customs you would share among yourselves.”

“Huh…” The expression on her face no longer bright, more blank with a shade of concern, but before Grimnir can ask what’s wrong Alexiel chimes in much more vibrantly.

“You have already participated in the rituals of Valentine’s Day and White Day, have you not?”

“Yes!” he chirps, setting his elbows on the table and his chin in his hands. “The Singularity was soooo cute. She made special candies just for me. I knew what Valentine's Day was, but I didn’t think I’d actually get to experience it like that. Then White Day made her smile so much--I wish I could do something like that without any prompting.” The memory gives him butterflies even though being caught off-guard had put a dent in his cool persona. It’s hard to come up with clever words when someone you love--did he love her then? That may have been the moment, or at least a step in the right direction. When someone you love surprises you with something so sweet it’s hard to stay cool. His next course of action has to render her speechless too, in a way he’s never done before.

His rambling chain of thoughts is interrupted by a firm thump on the table by Alexiel’s fist. “Aha! Then perhaps you should perform the important mortal rite of becoming ‘engaged’!”

Lyria’s glass nearly slips out of her hands. “ _ Engaged? _ ” The phrase in this context is somewhat familiar to Grimnir, but he’s lacking in details. The enthusiasm with which Alexiel speaks and the gasps with which the girl in blue responds bode well for the concept. He eagerly leans in.

Alexiel continues with pride in her voice: “It is my understanding that mortals who wish to solidify their bond will exchange rings to symbolize their connection to one another.”

An important rite that is decidedly underwhelming. Grimnir sighs. “I told the girl in blue that I need something more impressive than a gift.”

“This will be no ordinary gift.” 

“Y-yeah! It’s--”

“Once the rings have been exchanged,” Alexiel goes on to say before Lyria can get a word in, “the act is followed by a ceremony in which the two confess their feelings before their closest companions and have them affirmed by someone of official rank, such as a religious leader or the captain of a ship. In this way they are sworn to one another alone.”

Now he lights right up. “Nevermind, that sounds really cool and official!”

“I can think of no better way to prove your devotion than this,” she finishes.

“We do have many devout parishioners among us,” Shiva nods along. “As well as our own captain. Would the singularity be capable of officiating this rite for herself?”

“Perhaps Rackam could stand in her place? He is the helmsman,” offers Europa. “Or perhaps Noa, the shipwright?”

Before they can follow that lead any further the girl in blue is on her feet and hitting the table even harder than Alexiel did. “Umm! I don’t think you guys realize how serious that would be!”

“What do you mean? Something serious is what I’m looking for.”

“Yeah, but you haven’t even said ‘I love you’ yet!”

“That’s what I thought this was about, girl in blue--this sounds like the very thing I’ve been seeking!” he replies in earnest.

Though she’s tugging at her dress in that anxious way she often does, her voice is firm. “Getting engaged means you’re ready to get married.”

Oh. He has heard of this ‘marriage’ before, the most sacred rite of the mortal romance. Marriage is for people ready to ‘settle down’ in one place, which a skyfaring crew like theirs has no intention of doing--and even if they were, ‘settling down’ means children and babies, things that primal beasts are incapable of providing. He’d like to remain some distance away from confronting that openly.

“You can’t get engaged right now. Even if you’re in love you haven’t been together for very long yet. There are a bunch of smaller things you have to do first, like tell her you love her, or even just… you know, start calling her by her name instead of ‘Singularity’.”

That knocks aside all thoughts of marriage--the problem may be bigger than any one specific event. “Hang on, I have to do certain things before--have I been doing things out of order? There’s an order? Things go in?” The more he talks, the less grip he has on his tone of voice.

“Well, it’s more like a set of conditions you have to meet before you can move onto the next stage, but basically yes!”

He hadn’t even considered that! Foolish Grimnir! Of course there is! 

“Perhaps then you should simply… engage in combat, in some loving manner…” Alexiel mumbles, her face reddening.

“We already did that too!”

“Child of man.” The one in question turns to the god of destruction upon being addressed. “You spoke of using her name. What significance does such a gesture hold? I would guess that Grimnir’s words are to reassure her that he sees her powers as comparable to his own.”

Grimnir snaps back to attention. “Oh, good point!” He’s glad he brought friends to catch the important details. “I don’t want her to feel lesser than me just because I’m a god--and I definitely don’t want her to think I see her that way! That’s why I call her ‘Singularity’.”

“But she knows you respect her,” she insists regardless. “You’ve shown her how much you respect her. Now you should show her that you care more about being close to her than you do about her powers.”

“I don’t--i-it’s not just about her powers, girl in blue,” he stammers, growing more and more anxious as the reality of the situation unravels. “Of course it’s not. It’s just, it’s hard to explain but…”

Europa’s soothing voice interrupts the developing panic. “I understand Lyria’s point of view. Gabriel asking me to refer to her by name despite being my teacher does make me feel closer to her than I would if I were only to call her ‘master’ or ‘primarch’.”

“I can attest to the same,” Alexiel says with correctly-placed confidence this time. “Master Uriel is, er, somewhat more informal than I, but I agree that referring to him by name makes me feel as though he recognizes me as an individual of importance to him.”

He can follow their line of thinking, though it feels foreign to him. His own master referring to him by name always reminds Grimnir that he’s his student, not his equal, but the context of his relationship to the wind primarch is nothing like the context of his relationship with Djeeta. 

“There have been, and are, other singularities,” Europa continues. “It isn’t the role of Singularity that you love, but Djeeta herself, isn’t it?”

“I love Djeeta.” Saying her name out loud feels surprisingly intimate, which means the girls are probably right. “Then…” Grimnir gulps. “Have I been doing the opposite of what I wanted to do this entire time?”

“Do you find my conduct disrespectful as well?” Shiva asks. “My impulse is the reverse of Grimnir’s--my power is drawn from the prayers of the people. Such speech is my way of distinguishing between our roles. I derive no such power from other primal beasts, you see.”

“It’s not as simple as being respectful or not,” Lyria answers. “Although, um, Shiva, we know you care about us because you live with us and you’re our friend, but you still see yourself as a god among skydwellers, don’t you?”

“So I said.”

“But even if we’re the source of your power, you’re the god in this situation, so when you call us ‘children of man’ it feels like there’s a wall between us instead of a connection, if that makes sense… Not like you see us as being on your level.”

Shiva and Nagaraja both eye her carefully for a moment, but the four-armed god and his zero-armed companion ultimately defer to the young girl. “I still have much to learn about the ways of man. Very well. I, too, shall work to alter my patterns of speech to reflect my respect. As the covenant of brothers of Lowain have instructed me, I seek to become a ‘homie’ or ‘bruh’ to my fellow crewmates.”

“Ah… ahaha…” Lyria laughs awkwardly. “That still sounds really weird coming from you, so I’ve got walls to lower, too.” The smile on her face fades to gloom once more as she returns to the topic at hand, however. “But, speaking of that, I was kind of wondering… If you’re having so much trouble thinking of ways to express your feelings to someone who’s human, then, your other mortal lovers…?” She leaves the question unsaid, but the sentiments reach all four of the present primals.

Shiva dons a somewhat embarrassed smile. “Though I have been truly fond of these children of man, I have never been with one with whom I would invoke the rite of becoming engaged. Ours have never been relationships among equals.”

“I can admit to the same,” says Europa more softly than before. “I have enjoyed their company, or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that I have enjoyed their adoration. Even with Gabriel’s encouragement, it’s only since joining the Grandcypher’s crew that I’ve come to long for real connections to you mortals.” She adds a little sigh. “Perhaps we were not the best to come to for advice after all.”

Alexiel looks down into the ice in her glass, her thoughtful expression mirrored throughout the many facets. “I have dedicated my life to protecting the weak… by which I mean protecting mortals, mostly. By that same state of mind I would have found the affections of one to be laughable before I came to this Grandcypher. Even if we seek to do what’s right, or protect one another in our own ways, gods and mortals do not tend to see one another as equals.”

“Worship and adoration are unakin to being loved.” Nagaraja leans around with a squeak of serpentine concern for his master, who gently pets the snake under its jaw. “Their similarities are superficial. What Grimnir seeks is a connection of two hearts, not mere mutual fondness.”

“That’s exactly what I want,” Grimnir himself finally speaks again. “Even if I’m better now, I’m not guiltless of acting like that before either.” The intrigue and respect, and even the fear, that mortals feel toward the god of war have earned him plenty of favors across the centuries, but thinking back on that now leaves Grimnir disquieted. But dwelling on old mistakes can only take him so far--it’s the oncoming future, still within his control, that is so crucial. “I don’t want that for the sing--er, for Djeeta. She’s no mere consort to a god, she’s my girlfriend. Even with all the pizzazz about my holy and accursed powers and her command over destiny, being with her makes me feel normal, and I actually like it that way.”

Another ripple of quiet surprise passes around the table, before Europa reprises her earlier sentiments with a shake of her head and a smile: “To think that Grimnir has become the most mature of all of us.”

“You say that like it’s a surprise!” He huffs. “But, thanks, I think. I’m not just blowing hot air--I truly mean this, and I don’t want her to doubt it at all. Whether that means calling her ‘Singularity’ or ‘Djeeta’ or whatever else I might need to say, I want to know how to show her how I feel. So, thank you.”

Lyria brightens again, her smile a ray of light in this darkened atmosphere, though her words are still colored by the mood. “It makes sense you’d want to be sure she knows it isn’t like that for you… If it makes you feel any better, I think I know why you used to be that way. A weapon has no reason to have friends or family, do they? Back before Katalina rescued me I never tried to connect with people either...”

Therein lies the heart of the matter, able to be illuminated only by the mortal-primal bridge that Lyria represents. To the Astrals that created him, Grimnir was never a ‘god of war’. That designation was bestowed upon him by the skydwellers. The Astrals created him to be a weapon of war, and being reminded of it so frankly is a dose of humility he hasn’t had in a while. It’s a little bit of a relief, too, since it isn’t a surprise that he and the others have had trouble integrating themselves into mortal society, but it’s no excuse for bad behavior, either. It’s Grimnir’s own responsibility to work harder, follow the examples of those who came to the crew before him, and most importantly follow Lyria’s guidance right now. With that in mind, his smile is reinvigorated.

She smiles back more sincerely now herself. “What’s important is that you’re on the right track now, so I’ll do everything I can to help, for you and for Djeeta!”

“Great! Thank you so, so much, girl in blue! Er, I mean, Lyria. Should we call you Lyria too?”

“Yes please! I’m your friend, right?”

“Without a doubt! Thanks, Lyria!” He’s twice as glad now that he asked Lyria for her help. She’s not only the best-informed, she’s the best of all of them. “But getting back to why we’re here, saying ‘I love you’ and using her name, that’s still nothing but words, and not particularly dramatic ones even if they’re meaningful. I feel like regaling her with an epic scene in which I highlight why they’re important will just bring attention to the fact that I haven’t been saying them…” Not that he isn’t going to come up with one, he totally is, but that’s beside the point. “Are there any other important mortal romance rituals for me to participate in between those things and our, er, maybe someday possible future… future stuff.” He stops short of actually bringing up ‘the rite of becoming engaged’ again.

“Let me think…” She crosses her arms before her evermore eager audience. “You’ve already been through some major holidays together, including ones specifically for expressing your feelings. You’ll definitely have to do something special on your first anniversary, but that has a specific date, too.”

“Anything that I can do at my own pace? I want to show her how I feel as soon as I can.” 

“Um…” Despite her firm declarations, Lyria’s fount of ideas seems to be slowing to a bit of a trickle. “Um, well, there’s your first kiss, but you did that already. You’ve been on dates, you’ve held hands, and I’ve seen you coming out of her room in the morning so I think you’ve probably cuddled.”

Shiva and Europa both laugh while Grimnir waves them both off to try and stifle it so Lyria can keep going.

“You’ve done pretty much everything I can think of that a new couple would go through and you’re still together, which is good...”

His smile falters once more. “So all I have now is words?” Again, in any other case that would be perfect for someone so suited to poetic prose, but half of poetry is placement. Without something to back up his claims, he may as well be at a loss for words.

“No, I’m sure there’s more! Um, well, usually the next big thing would be something like introducing her to your parents, because that means that you want them to see her as part of your family.”

“Surely Djeeta is aware that primal beasts are created, not born?” Alexiel asks, her own concerns becoming evident. 

“Djeeta herself has no parents,” Shiva adds, though Lyria quickly corrects him. 

“She has a dad! He’s somewhere in Estalucia at the end of the sky. But Grimnir couldn’t just introduce himself to Djeeta’s dad, either. That’s not how it goes.”

As directionless frustration wells within him, Grimnir plonks his head onto the table. “Gah, and I feel like that would be perfect if I could do it! It sounds like a really big, official step that  _ I _ would have to choose to make.”

“And a meaningful one,” Europa agrees. “Family is very important to humans. If it were possible, such a gesture would prove that you consider her worthy of being part of yours.”

“But I don’t even have a family for her to be a part of.” And he’s becoming aware of the gravity of that fact. Primal beasts don’t have children, so of course they don’t have parents. One begets the other by necessity. No matter how much time he and Djeeta spend together, no matter how close they become, even if Djeeta inducts him into her own family at some point in this lifetime she’ll do so with the knowledge that she won’t be gaining one back from Grimnir. Will she be okay with that when--if?--the time comes? He groans his aching spirit into the tabletop. “We’ve gotten nowhere. If anything, we’re worse off now than when we started. I really thought we were… Maybe this is a sign from the heavens that I’m not ready for this...” What was once the tempest incarnate is now more like a piddling breeze blowing so pathetically that even the most sweltering person standing in its path would probably rather there be no breeze at all. 

But just when all hope seems lost, Lyria jumps up again. “Wait, I got it! We’re forgetting the obvious answer here!” Grimnir peels his face up off the table. “Maybe you don’t have parents, but you still have someone in your life who’s really important to you and has helped you grow as a person, don’t you?”

Does he?

“Maybe he can help!”

He? Oh. Oh dear.

His rapidfire mind is zeroing in on what she’s trying to imply.

She can’t be serious. The girl in blue, whose beck and call can summon primal beasts from afar, whose will commands them to appear at her side, can’t possibly be about to call out the name of--

“Raphael!” Grimnir’s core nearly collapses in on itself in fear that the clouds will part and the wind primarch will drop down onto them. “Do you think he would…” She trails off at the looks on the faces of the disciples, and the awkward squirming of Raphael’s specifically.

“I believe they are already acquainted,” Shiva says carefully.

“But there’s a difference between meeting someone and being officially introduced to them as a family member! It could still work!”

“Lyria,” Europa begins gently, “It’s a wonderful idea in concept. If I were to introduce a mortal lover to Gabriel I’m certain that she would be delighted both at my good fortune and at the fact that I would consider her important enough to be introduced as family. I’m speaking of Gabriel specifically, though.”

“I imagine Master Uriel would be very enthusiastic about any relationship I were to introduce him to, for a few reasons, but…”

“Our sense of kinship with each primarch is unique to each of us. Though it may be well known that the primarch of flames is considerably fond of mortals, the primarch of the winds is notoriously…”

“‘Strict,’ if you will,” puts Europa politely.

“That is to say…” Alexiel searches for a similarly polite turn of phrase, but Grimnir collapses onto the table again to spare her.

“The wind primarch would laugh at me if I asked him to do something like that.”

“Nonsense,” says Europa, gently patting his hair. “I have never seen Master Raphael laugh before. He’s more likely to ignore you.”

Furrowing her brow, Alexiel offers, “I know we have already agreed that referring to her as ‘the singularity’ is something that must be phased out, but perhaps if you were to temporarily emphasize her role to the wind primarch he would take your request more seriously? Fate itself may hang in the balance.”

An entirely new problem hangs now before Grimnir. The faint chill in the night air feels balmy compared to the ice settling into his stomach. “Ah, about that…” He drums his fingers on the table, stuck once again on finding the right turn of phrase. “Um, so, uh, I might’ve…” His voice is muffled by being pressed into a flat surface, but it would’ve been hard to comprehend his muttering anyway.

Lyria leans a little closer. “Grimnir…?”

He tilts his head to the side. “It’s just, er… You know, it took the wind primarch a really long time to agree to let me board the Grandcypher to study alongside the singularity in the first place, and he didn’t want people to know that he sent me, either, so I haven’t exactly gotten around to…” The volume of his voice drops steadily as his confidence wanes. He begins to slide from the table down into the chair. “To telling him that Djeeta and I are…”

The silence that befalls them now is even more awkward than the one that came from Lyria’s initial suggestion.

“Fear not, God of War.” Shiva claps him on the shoulder. “When the truth reaches him, I shall see to it that your body is taken by flame and your spirit allowed to ascend to the next life.”

He bolts upright again. “H-He wouldn’t kill me!” Would he? No he wouldn’t--Europa is right, he’ll be lucky if Raphael even laughs at him, because at least then Grimnir will have done something that entertained him. But now that he thinks about it, when he finds out that Grimnir and Djeeta are a couple--Grimnir’s voice becomes shrill and almost incomprehensibly fast as he relays the new ideas as they fill his head--”I-I haven’t told him yet because I haven’t found a good time for it but maybe he’ll be proud, you know? I never thought about it this way before but it’s like Alexiel said! His studious ward who trained so fiercely to impress him impressed the singularity so well that she’s fallen in love with him!” He really hopes Djeeta loves him too. “Maybe he’ll think that’s pretty cool!”

“Do you think so?” asks Europa.

He hangs his head in defeat. 

“But that makes this even more perfect!” maintains Lyria in spite of the negative reception. “This is your opportunity to tell Raphael about you and Djeeta--you really  _ will _ be introducing your girlfriend to him!” She’s not wrong, but that doesn’t make the idea any less nerve-wracking. “I’ve met Raphael too, remember? He’s a little cold, but I’ve seen him smile. I’ve seen him laugh, even,” she says to Europa specifically. “Once or twice at least. He’s not so bad…”

“No, he isn’t bad at all! I have nothing but the utmost respect for the wind primarch,” Grimnir explains. “But our perspectives don’t always align… Our personalities are pretty different, and unlike the earth primarch he doesn’t always see that as a good thing. Your relationship with him is totally different from the one we have. He’s not expecting a whole lot from you…” Not that he seems to expect Grimnir to deliver on his expectations very often either, says the sinking feeling in his chest.

But the circumstances seem to have awoken something in Lyria. The more they reject her, the more fiercely she pushes back. Her fists are clenched with determination and there’s a fire in her eyes that he can’t help but feel a little cornered by. “Well, things are changing for all of you. What mattered before doesn’t matter now, especially since you’re trying to all live normal lives. If Raphael wants to live as a person instead of a primarch he’s going to have to learn to enjoy things like spending time with friends and family.”

Lyria… has a point there, though Grimnir isn’t sure if he should be agreeing with it.

“And besides that, even if he acts prickly towards you sometimes, he wouldn’t have taken you on as a disciple if he didn’t respect you.” She stops, blinks, then asks, “He did accept you as a disciple, right?”

“He did.” Grimnir shakes off Shiva’s solemn hand. “Which is something I’ll always be proud of, but also why I’m nervous about making him change his mind.”

Lyria shoots a piercing gaze right through him. “That’s not the Grimnir I know.” Her hands come down on the table again, rattling every glass on it. “You’re the Dancing Whirlwind--the Mad Cyclone! It’s time for you to step up and be the Madly-in-Love-With-Djeeta Cyclone! Or… have you just been playing a character this whole time?”

“O-Of course I’m not just playing a character!” The accusation, the  _ audacity _ , to say such a thing to the god of war is nigh unfathomable. In times long past none would dare suggest that he might be playing up his powers and persona (well, they would have, but they would’ve gone on to regret it). But these are not those olden days, which is the whole point of what they’re doing right now. Lyria is no fool consumed by her own hubris—she’s one hundred percent right. Confronting this truth leaves him appalled at himself. With Lyria’s encouragement, his true self, locked away inside him under these worries, bursts forth anew. “You… You’re right!” He finds his own fists raised, matching hers. “I’m the holy warrior of the twilight, the tempest god whose right arm contains such unfathomable power as to be restrained with all confines imaginable! I am--” He’s standing in the chair now. “ _ GRIIIIIIIIIIIIIMNIR! _ ” A man leans out the window and tells him to get off the chair so he does but it doesn’t inhibit his wild tempestuous energy in the slightest. “But this isn’t even about me--this is for Djeeta. If I’m not willing to put my own pride on the line to make her happy, then I don’t deserve to be with her in the first place!”

With his rambunctious attitude restored, the mood around the table rises on the wind. Alexiel stands beside him, also pounding the table with renewed vigor. “Yes! You have never been one for cowardice in the face of danger. Your indomitable spirit mustn’t falter in this matter of the heart, either!”

“Please stop hitting the table,” Europa says softly. “We’re going to be asked to leave.”

“Er, excuse me.”

“Sorry.”

“Sorry, Europa…”

But she smiles and offers some pleased applause. “But yay for you, Grimnir. Gabriel would suggest we celebrate with red beans and rice. But to honor the circumstances, should we find something more human to do?”

“We shall reward your success by making it ‘lit’,” adds Shiva, raising his glass. “That, I know, is a common tradition within the celebrations of children of man.”

“Right! Awesome! But, ah,” Grimnir sheepishly rubs the back of his neck. “Let’s save the celebration until after I’ve made some real progress here.”

It’s going to be an arduous task, a seemingly insurmountable endeavor that he must embark on. But for Djeeta, Grimnir has moved mountains. Slain beasts that would make other men quake in fear. He can, at the very least, summon the resolve necessary to ask Raphael for a favor.


	2. Fragile Oaths Not Made In Blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Primal beasts don't do anything mildly, least of all Grimnir.

On this blackest of nights, a night lit not even by his ally the moon, a savage storm has set upon a cliffside plateau. Nearby trees helplessly grasp for thin layers of sand and rock through a carpet of underbrush too thick to be torn away. The pulling of the upper and lower foliage against one another is so dramatic that any passers-by caught in the storm would think the ground beneath them was alive and gasping for air.

Two figures stand in the eye of the storm, the howling gales surrounding them a manifestation of their indomitable spirits in opposition. All sound has been blotted out by the air pressure just as all light has been blotted out by the clouds. Only a single word makes itself heard within the tempest:

“No.”

Grimnir, the Madly-in-Love-With-Djeeta Cyclone, is kneeling at the feet of a man of green and golden hue. He sheepishly peeks up to match Raphael’s cold gaze. “Um. Pretty please?”

“No,” the archangel replies flatly. 

“Wind Primarchhhhh…!” Grimnir groans.

“I’m not on call for your flights of fancy.”

“This is no mere flight of fancy!” he insists. “You’ve seen my flights of fancy, this is totally different.”

“Explain to me what benefit there is in playing house, then.” 

He launches into his explanation with practiced academia. “Introducing one’s partner to their family is an essential rite of passage in the mortal romance. It signifies that two lives have become entwined--w-without the ah, bigger implications of something like marriage,” he adds, his face reddening. “As a primal beast I can’t offer her everything that a human man would, but I think introducing you as my mentor would be a good substitute for at least one thing!”

“I understand the significance of the ritual,” Raphael says, “to  _ mortals _ ,” more firmly. “What I don’t understand is why you suddenly feel compelled to play this game with a random skydweller.”

“This isn’t a game to me, Wind Primarch--I love her, I really do! And she’s not just some random skydweller either! She’s a really special girl.” There are a lot of reasons why she’s special and it pains him that he can’t really get into them, especially because it guts his argument. But finding a good place to introduce Raphael to the idea of his disciple dating the focal point of all evolution, whose shoulders the fate of the skies rests upon, hasn’t gotten any easier. All he can do is keep begging. “Wind Primarch, you know I wouldn’t risk your ire without good reason!”

“Well, you’ve earned it.” Grimnir winces. “Don’t waste my time with frivolities.” 

Every casual dismissal of his feelings makes his stomach churn. “I-It’s not frivolous either! It’s--” In the middle of his rambling, a flash of red light at his mentor’s back joins the green, signalling the appearance of the primarch’s six great wings. His disciple flies into a panic and drops to both knees. “Please please please don’t leave! I knew it would be a lot to ask--I thought, you might even rescind your tutelage and cut me off from being your disciple, but I was willing to risk it because she means that much to me!” That  _ must _ mean something to Raphael. Considering how hard Grimnir worked to be accepted as his student to begin with, dropping out isn’t something he’d choose to do lightly.

Unfortunately, recognizing the severity of his decision doesn’t mean Raphael is impressed by it. “You’d withdraw from my tutelage for a woman?”

“E-Erm, well, that… I didn’t say ‘withdraw,’ just that I thought you might… ah, aheh,” he swallows and regroups. “I love her enough that I’d give up everything for her. That’s what I mean.”

“You’re the same as ever,” the archangel sighs. “You struggle to see beyond the tip of your own nose. You forgo long-term planning in favor of short-term gratification without a thought.” While brevity has never been Grimnir’s strong suit, his master never minces words. “I expected you to learn something from the singularity, but I’ll take this to mean you haven’t grown at all.”

“That’s not true!” Grimnir lurches defiantly to his feet and throws out his arms, palms toward the whirling tornado they’re encased within. An abrupt silence befalls the cliff when the winds die down to nothing. 

Raphael’s expression remains, but his eyes narrow just a little more.

“This isn’t about short-term gratification… I’m doing exactly as you instructed--I have my own reason for protecting these skies now and I only found it at the singularity’s side!” The unseen power of the primarch strains viciously against his aural grip, but the primarch himself seems unfazed by the fight Grimnir is putting up.

“Such a flimsy reason doesn’t inspire confidence.”

Stay focused, stay upright, don’t fall for such obvious taunting, he repeats to himself in his head. He digs his armored heel into the earth to ground himself. This is one impassioned speech he can’t let himself trip up on. “I’ve stood for the thrill of battle and the glory of being seen as some kind of hero--or I did it because that’s what you told me to do and what I was designed for! Aren’t those reasons more shallow than this one? Now I’ve found someone who’s really, truly changed the way that I see things… The singularity--a-and, my girlfriend...” 

Holding onto the wind is slowly driving his shoulder blades in toward his spine, sending a searing pain creeping up his back and neck. He hasn’t forgotten the extent of his master’s power, but struggling so helplessly to do what normally comes so naturally to him is as frustrating as Raphael’s attitude. Now’s not the time for holding back. His stammering stumbles into a war cry with power usually reserved only for his enemies unleashed. The soft light he emanates erupts into something blinding, a beacon that pierces the sky. His right arm forces a blue sky and his left eye a sunrise, and for a moment there is no night. The darkness doesn’t fall again easily. They stand now in a state of twilight, as though time itself has been warped to suit Grimnir’s needs.

“Reaching out to one another…” He’s seized control of the winds again, but Raphael is far too easily rising to match every new level of power Grimnir pushes himself to. He rushes through his next without wasting energy on breathing. “--is what skydwellers do! The foundation of this world they’ve created is caring for each other. They pursue their connections to one another recklessly, no matter how much inhospitable ground they have to traverse. That is what  _ they _ fight to protect--that’s what they live for, and die for--that’s what they brave all manner of dangers for! For one another! The mere chance that they can reach out to someone new and become a little closer!” The beginnings of the breeze are slipping through his trembling fingers. “How can you say that isn’t incredible? Please, Wind Primarch… This is all that I can do for her to make her see how much I want to be a part of her world. I-I say a lot of dramatic things all the time, but no amount of words could express my feelings in the way I need to. That’s why--” 

It’s a struggle to talk through his grinding teeth. His elbows are buckling under the strain. He’s become distressingly conscious of where his core sits within his body the way humans suddenly remember their lungs, but all the burning in his body is kindling compared to the fire inside him driving him onward. For the sake of the mortals who made him into a war god, he can’t surrender. For the sake of the mortal who made him a man, he  _ won’t _ surrender. He summons the last of his strength, developed over centuries of constant chatter--Raphael may have the upper hand in controlling the wind, but he could never hold a candle to Grimnir when it comes to running his mouth--and he forces out one last sentence--no, two! 

“That’s why I chose this path--to summon you, and ask you for this favor! Now I know what mortals want and I want it too!”

At that exact, crucial moment a thunderous crash hits so close to Grimnir that he briefly thinks he may have been struck by the lightning itself. He drops everything he’s doing, flinching in on himself and squealing in shock. Yet despite his ultimate failure, the winds stay still. As the night drops once more onto his self-made twilight, a booming voice calls out in words Grimnir shall always commit to his memory:

“How long are you planning to be a jackass about this, Raphael?” 

A man of such bold stature that he may as well have been carved from the rock they stand on comes into view as the dust settles. The primarch of earth steps over the primal beast who’s now curled up on the ground like a snail and instead saunters over to Raphael to poke him in the arm. 

“He’s asking you to make an appearance in front of one mortal. You talk to mortals every day.”

“I would have thought that by now you would appreciate their company.” A nearby shrub ignites from nothing; from the fire comes a woman cloaked in white armor and armed with blades of ruby. 

“He does,” says the earth primarch. “I caught him sitting on a bench next to a skydweller reading some book the other day.”

“How scandalous of you, Raphael.” The dew in the night air comes together into a glittering cloud, from which a second woman with a cheerier voice comes forth. Uriel, Michael, and Gabriel, the three remaining tetra-elemental archangels, now surround the pair.

Rather than acknowledge their presence, Raphael glowers at his charge. “Did you invite them?”

Grimnir rolls back onto his hands and knees. “No, no no, really, I didn’t!” But he has a good guess as to who did. Silhouettes of oath-breakers are taking form in his mind. 

Uriel crosses his burly arms and shakes his head. “You know, if Alexiel came to me with a mortal on her arm I’d be thrilled. I’d like to see the look on their face when they realize they’re having dinner with a primarch!”

“Who said anything about dinner?” Raphael retorts.

“That would be traditional for this type of event. You must know something of these rituals from your reading.” The water primarch smiles at the wind one, who fails to return the sentiment. “I’m a little envious of you, really. I think playing mommy with Europa and her lover would be a lot of fun.”

“I think,” says Michael, “that Grimnir may have a better understanding of mortal culture than do you at this point.” That level of complimentary suggestion is almost enough to melt the man in question into a well-praised puddle. “You’d do well to have humility enough to follow his example.”

“I understand them perfectly well.” 

“Reading about ‘em in books is a big waste of time if you aren’t planning to actually do anything.” Uriel jabs Raphael again; Raphael swats his hand away. 

“Cut that out.”

“You cut it out! We all know you’re just putting on a show. Look at him.” He gestures at Grimnir with one of his massive hands. “He’s about to cry.” He is not wrong. Grimnir’s eyes are still gleaming even after the ebbing of his awesome powers, because they are swimming in tears reflecting the light show coming off of the other primals. “Lay off the power trip already. Sheesh.”

“Hm, I wonder.” Gabriel taps her lips in pretend thoughtfulness. “Are you afraid that doing something so adorable will hurt your reputation?” 

“Nothing I ever do is ‘adorable’.”

“Sounds like I’m right. ♡”

“No, you aren’t.” If primal beasts had families the way mortals do, Raphael would be starting to sound a lot like a brother being ganged up on by his siblings.

“Is it that you’re unsure of what to wear, then?” asks Michael. The primarch of flames is almost never cheeky; seeing her like that now is surreal. “As Gabriel said, I’m sure you know of the tradition Grimnir speaks of. Your current attire would be unsuited, but with your pride in your unique fighting style I imagine your wardrobe is lacking in other clothing.”

“No! This is ridiculous.”

“I’m with Raph on this one,” says Uriel, patting the bullied primarch on his back. “If he can’t own the chaps while meeting his kid’s girlfriend, he doesn’t deserve them.”

Raphael shoves him back with a small burst of wind.

“Hey! Lighten up!”

“ _ You _ lighten up.”

“Maybe Michael ought to literally light you up.”

“Ah, ahhahaha…” Grimnir laughs awkwardly in the middle of the spat, waving his hands in vague surrender. “There’s no need to threaten the wind primarch! Really! I, ah…” He flinches under a withering glare from Raphael.

“You did this.”

“No I didn’t! I really wanted to have a private conversation, I swear!”

“I thought you liked having an audience?” comes a new voice on the wind. With a flap of wings and a stray falling feather, the fifth and final primarch alights beside him. Sandalphon extends his hand to the center of attention, who is still on the ground.

Grimnir fidgets at first, but hesitantly accepts the help in getting back to his feet. “Well, I do, but… I thought the wind primarch would prefer it if I faced him alone.”

Sandalphon smirks. “I don’t think your feelings on that matter reached the people who gave you this idea.” So he was right. It was his most trusted group of companions who betrayed him to the primarchs. Once they’d gone their separate ways on that fateful night they must have reconvened in his absence, plotting this coup from the shadows. How little faith they must have in his abilities, to call upon the primarchs like this...

Well they were absolutely right to do it. He will be lavishing appreciation upon them once he’s done here. None of them have wings of their own but they are all, without a doubt, angels.

“Being a part of a crew means you’re always a small part of a greater whole, and your business is never really your own,” the supreme primarch continues. “And these people in particular are notorious meddlers.”

“R… Right!” That’s evident in the fact that the supreme primarch came to his aid in the first place. The fact that he’s casually friends with the master of his own masters is a thing that rarely crosses his mind, given that they see one another in such mundane settings every day. Even two years ago the idea of someone in Sandalphon’s role making drinks for him in a little cafe would have been ridiculous. Such is the power that mortal bonds hold...

Now Sandalphon, taking up the mantle of his formal role, faces Raphael at the center of the ring of angels. “Raphael,” he says with gravity.

“Supreme Primarch,” Raphael repeats with just as much gravity.

The air has become thick, viscous with the auras emanating from the six primal beasts. Even though the weather has stabilized, the trees are bending away under the weight of their combined power. 

“So you have no interest in Grimnir’s request.”

“Are you here to order me to comply with it, Supreme Primarch?” The edge to Raphael’s tone could cleave through the tension and leave visible marks behind.

Sandalphon continues cooly. “I’m not planning to order you to do anything. Unless there’s some emergency affecting the fate of the skies, I have no right to boss you around.”

“Then what brings you here?”

“I came to offer you my own thoughts on Grimnir’s situation. I don’t really care whether you take them to heart or not, but you should hear them.”

Raphael remains visibly irritated, but he allows the conversation to continue. “I suppose by now you would be an expert.”

“I do live with him,” he smarts off in turn. “He’s not exactly the type of man who keeps to himself.”

“What is your assessment, then.” A question phrased like a statement. A man who recognizes that he’s going to hear something whether he intends to listen or not.

Sandalphon speaks now in a voice most frank: “He’s significantly less irritating now than he was when he joined the crew.”

It’s important to have someone on his side who speaks Raphael’s language, as any master of the spoken word like Grimnir would know. Sandalphon taking up for him surmounts any indignation Grimnir might’ve felt about his word choice, anyway.

The two grumpy angels continue to stare one another down, eye contact unwavering. Raphael breathes out through his nose. “I suppose there’s that, at least.”

“I’d also like to offer my opinion on this whole ordeal as someone who’s experienced what he’s going through.” The supreme primarch fades back into the more normal man he lives as in his everyday life. His voice takes a softer tone. “Wanting to reach this woman on her own level doesn’t strike me as a ridiculous impulse. Rather than acting carelessly, he’s trying to lower the barriers between them because he wants the person he loves to feel like his equal. To me, that’s a sign of emotional maturity. Not everyone realizes that so quickly… or chooses to act on it once they do.”

He doesn’t have to elaborate. Those words alone dredge up memories of centuries past and salt the rawer wounds of recent years. The primarchs who have been poking fun at Grimnir’s situation since their arrival take on a more solemn air in the wake of this more serious approach. After a moment’s hesitation, Grimnir steps closer to his crewmate. “Do you really mean that?” he asks him.

“If I didn’t, I wouldn’t waste my time coming here. I have no reason to lie.” Sandalphon addresses Grimnir directly, but his words are just as much for the others to hear. “Even if your methods are unconventional, you’ve put your pride on the line to make the person you love happy. I have nothing but respect for that.” 

The younger primal beast blushes brightly. “T-Thank you! Of course I did! I want her to be happy, more than anything.”

Satisfied, the supreme primarch turns back to the other four angels. “So if you’re concerned with his growth, that’s where I’m at on the subject. On the other hand…” At this point, ignoring the mood he just set, a rude little grin creeps onto Sandalphon’s face. “If you really are worried about looking adorable, I’ve lived that too. Sometimes it’s better to just play along.”

The heavy atmosphere breaks along with the silence, replaced by a chorus of angels, all laughing. Raphael is not laughing. Raphael looks exhausted.

“Do you really have no other clothes?” Sandalphon teases.

“Like I said, he needs to own the chaps!” Uriel thumps Raphael on the back, and the ground subsequently quakes when Raphael’s counter gale topples him completely. “Hah! I can’t even be mad.”

“Supreme Primarch, if we’re standing here as equals, may I speak plainly?” Raphael asks, pointedly ignoring the rest of them now. Granted permission by a nod, he continues. “Very well. To be frank, listening to you waxing on about romance is borderline nauseating, and I would honestly consider doing this just to get you to stop.”

“Raphael!” Michael rounds on the wind primarch when the supreme primarch’s face reddens.

“Raphael, that’s terrible,” Gabriel scolds him.

The second half of Raphael’s implications are the ones that catch Grimnir’s attention, though. “Wait, really?” he asks, wide-eyed.

Raphael extracts himself from the others and steps up to his disciple, who straightens up to look more presentable. In doing so, Grimnir notices for the first time that he’s ever so slightly taller than his master, until Raphael starts again, “This harassment makes me even less interested in entertaining your shenanigans,” and Grimnir wilts back down to a more humble height. But Raphael isn’t finished. “The only one I trust is here for the reason he says he is is Sandalphon, and I’m willing to believe him when he says that I was wrong to assume you haven’t grown. His word means less to me than your actions from before we were interrupted, though,” says the wind primarch. “You withstood my power for longer than I thought you were capable of, and at greater levels. I won’t pretend not to have noticed.”

Grimnir’s chest wells with pride, not to mention relief. Still, he lets Raphael continue without interrupting.

“More importantly,” and at this one, to his immense disbelief, the primarch allows just a hint of a smile to tug at the corner of his lip. “In all the time I’ve known you,” which would be centuries’ worth of study, “not once have you said that words wouldn’t be enough for something. You’re always looking for an excuse to blather on about yourself.”

Why is everyone so shocked by this? Doesn’t matter--the greater implications have him glowing so brightly that he doesn’t even cast a shadow.

“I don’t know whether the singularity or this woman you speak of taught you that, but it ultimately doesn’t matter.” Grimnir feels Sandalphon’s eyes cut to him again while the blood drains out of Grimnir’s face. Sandalphon is fully aware of the nature of Grimnir’s relationship with Djeeta, but surely Lyria told him not to get into the nitty gritty details like ‘who he’s dating’ to Raphael, right? Right? And the others too to their respective archangels? Raphael, thankfully, does not pry into the look on his face.

“You could… say it was a combined effort,” he replies meekly. “But wait, does that mean… Will you--?”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

“Y-Yes sir.”

“I’m making no promises. I find this whole situation ridiculous.” He’s made that very clear already. Now, though, when he shakes his head, it somehow doesn’t feel like ridicule. His disappointment seems to have gone away, or at least lost the hard edge that disappointment has. “The raw determination that impresses you so much in skydwellers belies how fragile they are.”

Coming from a mentor, disappointment without an edge is really just concern. “I know. But so long as I’m by her side, I can protect her from any dangers.” 

“Does that include time? When I said ‘short-term gratification,’ I didn’t mean this favor you’re asking. Have you considered how you’ll feel a century from now?”

Of course he has, endlessly. In all his longest nights. So far as mortals go Djeeta is among the least fragile he’s ever met, but even she is bound to the progression of time. In a way, Raphael’s words ring true: Compared to his own seemingly-endless lifespan, love like this is a form of short-term gratification, but that doesn’t mean that it can’t be profound. He places his hand over his chest; his conviction doesn’t falter. “It doesn’t matter to me. I want to stay with her for as long as I can, to the end of her life if she’ll allow me. And then I’ll find her again in her next life, and again and again after that, as many times as I must, until I too meet my end at the hands of fate, and both of us ascend to the heavens so that we may be written into the stars—“

“I get it.” 

“But, even if this is the only time we ever share together, that’s all the more reason for me to make it special for her. Please, Wind Primarch… All I ask is one evening.” He lowers himself to his knee again. “Even if you refuse, that won’t change how I feel about her…”

He falls into a rare moment of silence. Raphael observes him throughout, waiting for him to start talking again. 

...

When he doesn’t, Raphael sighs. He turns to Sandalphon again. “Have you met this life-changing woman?”

Every time they stray close to this subject Grimnir starts sweating, but thankfully Sandalphon, his precious crewmate who has his back in any situation, keeps it cooler than he can. He simply replies, “You’ll find her worth your time.”

Then Gabriel chimes in with a smile. “If what Europa has told me is true, she sounds like a lovely girl.”

“What? Your disciple told you about her? Alexiel didn’t say a thing!”

“The subject never came up between Shiva and I either.” Michael can disguise her envy slightly better than Uriel, but it still shines through. Grimnir, on the other hand, is whispering thankful prayers for the fact that some of his friends have at least a little discretion, and making a mental note that Europa cannot be trusted ever again.

Europa’s master innocently crosses her arms. “If things go well with Raphael, maybe we’ll all get to meet her.” She follows with a giggle, but leaves it at that.

“I make no promises,” he reiterates. 

“But you’ll consider it?” Grimnir looks up at him now full of new hopes and fresh dreams.

“If I can find the time, I will consider it.”

Considering Raphael’s personality, that’s about the best that he could hope to hear from him. He prepares to shower his benevolent teacher with oodles of thanks, but he stops short. Deep within his core, something is stirring. He clutches his chest. Power so suppressed that even he has never tapped into it before has broken free of its seal. It wells within him with the force of a hurricane, barely contained by his physical form now that it’s been unleashed. Perhaps he pushed himself too far--it’s escaping his control, threatening to tear apart the very skies he’s just sworn his fealty to--! His hand moves from his chest to clamp over his all-powerful eye as he trembles against the escaping light--

The valley echoes for miles with screams of pure elation. The herald of his near-success sends birds scattering from their nests, befuddled by the late hour and the joyful sound shaking the trees they had been sleeping in. Even the primarchs flinch in the face of this power. All but Raphael. 

Grimnir quickly gets ahold of himself and clarifies, “T-Thank you for your consideration!” before Raphael has to try to repeat himself over the last reverberations of his echoing voice. “From the bottom of my heart, thank you, Wind Primarch. It means the world to me to hear you say that. You’ll really like her!” He still isn’t sure how much Raphael will like how much Djeeta likes Grimnir, but he’ll leave that for another day. Pushing for more after a such a narrow victory is never a good idea.

“Grimnir…” Raphael slowly shakes his head. “You have no intention of budging on this, do you?”

Grimnir nods vigorously. “I’m in love, Wind Primarch. It’s true love between a human and a primal beast. This kind of thing is possible in the world the singularity is creating, and I’m helping pave the way for that world! It’s a brighter future, where even primal beasts have a place to choose who they want to be. And… This is what I’ve chosen.”

“I imagine the singularity is fully encouraging you, too.”

“Yep! She’s all about it!” he replies with bright, nervous enthusiasm.

The true master of winds turns his gaze past Grimnir now, looking instead into the distance shrouded by the late hour. Somewhere beyond his line of sight the Grandcypher is docked peacefully, filled with mortals of all sorts, primal beasts, people difficult to define, and the precious singularity at the heart of it all. Soon Grimnir will return to her side to share in that peace, though he’ll have to try very hard to contain his excitement and not interrupt her sleep. Even without knowing that last detail, the primarch murmurs something under his breath. “What a strange new world that will be.”

But it is a world within arm’s reach, Grimnir is certain of that. Though whether the oncoming storm will help them sail safely into it or tear everything apart, even a tempest god can’t say for certain until it comes, but with Raphael’s (sort of) blessing ringing in his ears, Grimnir charges ahead with reckless abandon.


End file.
